Technologically Impaired
by Dark-Phoenix22
Summary: The five times Gordon has a run in with Batman's equipment and causes trouble, and the one time he doesn't.
1. Chapter 1

**Technologically Impaired - Batpod**

**By Dark-Phoenix22**

It was just sitting there. Totally innocuous, almost invisible in the darkness of the ally. Now that he saw it however, he just couldn't understand how he hadn't noticed it before. The light of false dawn gleamed off what could only be guns of some kind attached to the front straddling the single huge wheel. Tilting his head to the side only made the shadows slide across the rest of the matte surface to reveal even more not less.

It wasn't disappearing.

It was taunting him he decided. He'd been on the radio all night between the robbery, the sudden appearance of Batman and coordinating the chase of the vigilante on his motorcycle. The Batpod the media had taken to calling it. They'd lost it of course, even on the 2 massive tires he had recognized vaguely the first time, confirmed when he had seen the remains of the Batmobile in the ally beside the huge hole in the tunnel wall it had made, the bike was far faster and nimbler than a police cruiser. And now, here it was, parked almost in front of the police station thinly veiled in the dark alley where it stuck out like a sore thumb. Now that he'd noticed it.

Definitely taunting him.

He scowled. Stupid thing didn't even look like a motorcycle.

Turning from the window he grabbed his suit jacket and threw it over his shoulder. He wanted a closer look. His shift was over anyway and his own car was parked in the lot next to the - oh so convenient alley that the Batpod was in. Well not that close but it made for a good excuse didn't it?

Waving vaguely to the weary waves and comments from his officers, he pushed the door open and stopped on the stairs, drawing in a huge lungful of the chill air before letting it out in a gush. He couldn't wait to go home after this. Trotting lightly down the stairs he made for the general direction of his car, whistling slightly in time with his jaunty motions trying to give the impression that he was going to his car and not looking anywhere specific. Especially not at that…thing. Up close it only confirmed his impressions.

'_Definitely not a motorcycle.'_

Aside from the huge tires that were as wide as his forearm long placed in the expected positions front and back, it really didn't resemble one at all. Clearly it hadn't been designed as a motorcycle either. _'Who puts guns on a motorcycle Jim.'_ A means of transport yes, but an unfinished one. There were no metal plates, black or otherwise to hide the shape of the structure like the chassis kit on a motorcycle, just the bare black bars and struts, hydraulics that raised and lowered the level of the bike in plain view. No real 'seat' per say either, more of a flat vaguely sculpted pad to rest the chest and stomach on. No easily discernable handlebars either. Just upswept braces for the forearms, a place more to rest weight than to steer. It was rather ugly all told.

Bending for a closer look at the front only made him wonder more. How could he turn so quick? There was no steering rack, no fork or hydraulics to turn the massive front tire at all. There appeared to be a sort to bearing assembly that he could only guess at it structure, but clearly showed its purpose. If only for the fact he had seen it used before when Batman had come sideways out of a similar alley, tire rolling clear over and over to the side before coming to a stop facing the Joker.

Must be all in the wrist he decided. Rocking the bike with weight alone on the edge of the almost square tires, racing slicks he absently noted, and sliding to turn and dodge. Not for the lazy cruiser at heart. This bike required _work_ to drive.

Reaching out a hand to gently brush his fingers over the bike he couldn't help the shiver. For all its' futuristic and bare look, the combination made it decidedly ominous looking. That, and it was _Batman's._ Running his fingers down the bikes' flanks he leaned closer for a better look at the controls. Lights appeared at his gentle touch, slight blips emanating from the machinery under the chest pad.

**Thump**

The sound made him spin, fingers dragging roughly across the controls. He barely had time to register the vague man shape with upright pointed ears on his head before the bike roared to life, guns raising and centering slightly, tips extending from the base to allow for the backlash of the shots surely to follow. A rough push to the side forced him away from the bike, a black-clad arm flicking through his line of vision to tap on the controls. The bike quieted to an idle, guns retracting.

Straightening from his stumble he turned to face the shape. Batman. He shivered again. An unhappy Batman if the glaring eyes from the mask said anything about it.

"Sorry?" was all he could offer the dark shape.

Batman always made him uneasy, 6 feet at least and heavily muscled, black eyes staring from the angry lines of the cowl, his sheer overwhelming _presence._ The darkness only made everything so much more ominous and frightening. Though the one time he had saw him fully in the light hadn't helped. It had made him look bigger in fact.

Another withering glare.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's impolite to touch someone else's things? You almost shot out the wall of your precinct." Gordon straightened, indignant at the harsh rasp.

"How was I supposed to know touching it would make it shoot something? I found it shut off sitting in an alley! Why is your crap so complicated anyway? What happened to a key and a 'Fire' button so one would know what they were touching?"

Gordon could have sworn amusement flashed through the dark eyes glaring daggers at him.

"To keep the technologically impaired from doing what you almost did." Batman swung one leg over the seat, the bike dropping a few inches from what must be quite the weight of the armor clad figure. A small quirk of the lip was all he got at Batman turned away and settled his arms into the braces, feet coming up to rest on what could almost be called a rear fender.

"Back to the drawing board on that one."

Tires squealed and the bike peeled out of the alley leaving Gordon standing in a cloud of noxious smoke a dumbstruck look on his face.

'_Was that a joke?'_


	2. Batmobile

**Technologically Impaired: Batmobile**

By Dark-Phoenix22

He wasn't doing this…He _seriously_ wasn't doing this.

Remote stick thing in his hand Gordon could only stare at the hulking, massive…tank…that sat in front of him. Long and low and black _'Of course'_ it was possibly the most confusing and scary and admittedly cool thing he had seen in a while.

…And Batman wanted him to _DRIVE_ it…

He just knew this wouldn't end well.

He glanced at the object in his hand that the Batman had passed him. With that weird question. _"Can you drive stick?"_ It was only maybe 2 inches long and a shiny gloss black, unlike the rest of Batman's technology which seemed to be always the same utilitarian matte, flat black. Really, it looked like a USB drive. He moved closer to the Batmobile.

'_How do you open..?'_

He ran his fingers over the front plates of the vehicle. Nothing. Despite multiple nooks and crannies in the layered plates there didn't seem to be a way in_. 'Nothing easily recognizable anyway,'_ he thought. _'Like a door handle, no, that'd be TOO helpful.'_

Gripping one of the large plates tightly he hauled himself up onto the top of the sloped vehicle from between the two tires. Bending over to practically look at the thing from upside down in an effort to maybe understand it a bit better, he knew he looked ridiculous, but tossed the thought off as soon as it arose. There were more important things to worry about. Like Batman not having any backup because Gordon couldn't get his TANK open!

Another thought flashed through his mind. The bridges were all up. He knew Batman could jump with the machine, but driving it was going to be bad enough. Straightening, he grabbed his walkie' from where it was clipped to his jacket

"This is Gordon! Prepare to lower the bridge!" He considered the black vehicle he was now kneeling on again with a flash of inspiration.

The top. He had seen Batman exit from near the top of the tank, the plates rising up like a secret hatch. He looked at the almost forgotten black stick in his hand. Maybe that's what its for? A remote? …with no buttons. He sighed.

Pressing on the stick from all sides, he never really figured out where the button on it was, but holding it to his face like a car remote and aiming it in the general direction of the roof seemed to work. Three large plates rose a few feet into the air, opening enough for him to twist around and lower his feet onto the seat he could see below.

Lights flickered on around him as he settled into the seat, multiple screens lighting up around him. From the right, a console slid forward, flicking forward to reveal what looked like an airplane' turbine controller, a feminine voice intoning "GPS online". The wide lever matched the 'definitely not a steering wheel' in front of him. On the floor, he could feel the presence to only two pedals. But after that comment, it was too much to hope that the damn thing would be automatic.

'_Time to get this show on the road.'_

He could feel the sweat and water drops running down his face as he considered the lever. Flexing his fingers, he placed his palm on the lever and gave it a gentle push. With some resistance, the lever slid forward a notch, like a car going into park from reverse. The resulting ROAR of the engine starting though almost gave him a heartattack, his breath hitching in his throat. Nothing else happened as he calmed his heartbeat, the tank settling down into a surprisingly quiet idle. After a moment he pushed the accelerator forward again, trying to get it to move another notch. The tank bucked.

Bang Bang Bang. Dead silence.

He blinked. _'Was that…?'_

He just stalled a tank.

'_Ok. Let's try this again…'_

Clicking the lever back into the fully back position he waited a moment before sliding it forward one notch again, comforted by the resulting roar of the Batmobile coming to life. Depressing the small pedal to the left he tried sliding the lever forwards again, searching for the next click that he didn't know wasn't coming. And was really not ready for the power of the machine as the engine roared again, four huge tires skidding sideways, screaming against the pavement.

And 360'd. Into the nearest building. But the tank was still on. Made him face the right direction too, the Batmobile previously having been facing into the Narrows due to Batman's spectacular jump.

Quickly depressing the clutch again, he slowly pushed forward on the controls, his continued lead-handedness showing in the repeated spinning of the tires and slight fishtailing before straightening out and aiming for the bridge he could see lowering in the distance.

* * *

Traffic tickets. They'd given him TRAFFIC TICKETS! After helping to save the city with the Batman they'd punished him by giving him a pay raise – and _traffic tickets._ To be fair, he did almost run down the commissioner when coming off the bridge from the Narrows, and he did run over a police car or two…or six or seven… and destroyed a good city block and the ageing monorail train…

He dropped his head into his hands.

…_WITH_ the aging monorail train. But either way he had still saved the city. In a tank. With a man in a bat costume. He'd like to see them do better.

Batman hadn't been that amused either when he saw the 'trail of destruction' in Gordon's wake. He'd limped to his side, considering him for a moment, eyes flicking behind Gordon to take in the scene behind him. Then held out a black (matte black of course) gloved hand for the little black stick. Gordon had handed it over reluctantly then watched at the vigilante had climbed into the still open hatch of the Batmobile and - _slowly_ – drove away. The darkness swallowing him up quickly for a guy in a bat suit in a giant six wheeled tank. Yeah, he wasn't happy.

Never mind his own trail of course. Gordon had never had a stronger urge to stick out his tongue at someone. Crazy people in Gotham are nothing new, and it's not like they stood in a neat line to see Batman's trail either.

….He needed to go to bed. Honestly this thought train…?

No, he'd had enough of trains for the night. And tanks too.

* * *

Trying for a bit more humor this time. lol. If anyone has read any of my other stories they know I do angst so much better :) Reviews Please!


	3. Batarang

Technologically Impaired: Batarang

By Dark-Phoenix22

The first thing that came to Gordon's mind as he cautiously poked his head over his desk, was at least THIS time, it wasn't his fault. Shredded paper floated down gently in the breeze from the overhead fan, resting lightly across everything and everyone like dry snow. A thin rectangle about 4 inches long, almost cut out of the frosted glass of his office door, let in light from the hallway outside where all sounds had ceased.

"Pssssst! Gordon!" He turned slowly to glare at the stage whisper to his right. The young man hiding between the filing cabinet and the wall visibly wilted.

"Yes, Jefferies?", the words came out slow and filled with ice. "Do you have any OTHER insights into Batman's tech at this time?"

The young man shook his head quickly and disappeared back behind the filing cabinet.

Deciding that it was safe enough now that sound was resuming outside his office, Gordon climbed carefully to his feet and picked his way through the mess of papers to the door. He squinted momentarily at the little slit missing out of the glass before cautiously opening the door and looking out into the main area.

Just like his office, a steady fall of papery snow was just settling on top of all available surfaces. And just like his office, there was not a soul in sight except for a slightly bewildered looking perp sitting cuffed to a chair four desks down from Gordon. At the same desk, a small fire burned merrily on top of the desk where sparks from the broken light above had caught on one of the many pieces of paper from the indoor snowfall. Ignoring the fire, and the slowly rising forms that magically appeared from under desks and around objects, he scanned the room slowly. Ah ha.

Walking quickly to the opposite side of the room he reached out and gently closed his hand around the small, silver shape embedded point first in the brick wall. Pulling it out gently, he flipped it over and over slowly, looking for marks on the shiny surface as he walked back through the room and into his office. The silence never broken as all the tenants watched quietly, not moving. He closed the door.

There was not a mark on the thing except for a slight ding in one curved edge despite all the damage it had caused. His eyes flicked to the slit in the door. Looking closely though, he could see slight discolorations in the metal where the magnets must be. Lightly tossing the thing down onto the paper covered desk he enjoyed seeing the young officer flinch out of the corner of his eye. No, it might not be his fault directly, but he was the one who had kept the small silver shape he had pulled from the hood of one of their patrol cars a few months back and displayed it on his desk. He should have figured that someone might actually try throwing it at some point just to say they had.

Like Jefferies.

The young man had come into his office only minutes before and started spouting something about magnets and Batman's technology. Turns out he was right in this case at least but he hadn't needed to PROVE what he was saying. Watching him throw the little silver object was probably the crowning moment of his shitty day though. Now that he knew that no one was hurt it was actually kind of funny.

The thing had wasted no time in ricocheting around the room knocking down papers to be caught by wind from the fan and slicing them to pieces as it passed through them again. A total of 5 times as best he could figure, had the little object rebounded before finally going through the glass of his door so cleanly that it was not cracked around the hole at all.

Unbeknownst to him, the havoc created outside his office was somewhat worse. When the object had hit the light above the perp, resulting in a shower of sparks it had scared one of the secretaries walking across the room so badly that she had screamed bloody murder (Which he did know) and thrown the large stacks of papers she was carrying and took off for the front door. Resulting in the indoor snow effect. The sudden movements of everyone in the room diving for cover had caused the rest of the confusion and most of the mess, as the object made a second pass before becoming embedded in the wall next to the door the secretary had run through moments before.

From looking at it, the best he could figure was that the act of throwing it activated the magnets that allowed it to continue to travel without falling for a few passes. Or something like that, because he knew that the thing wasn't magnetic otherwise.

Sitting at his desk he vaguely waved the young officer out the door, the sounds of questions wafting in after him. He smiled a bit. The incident HAD brightened up his day.

If the next time Batman was in his office Gordon ignored the raised eyebrow and the quiet snort as the vigilante tried to pick up the small 4 inch stylized silver bat from its wooden stand and realized they were glued together, that was ok. It wasn't his fault.


End file.
